


after the beep

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Phone Sex, Voicemail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9205454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: “You missed our date,” Foggy says, a little groggy, “Though, admittedly, I fell asleep, so maybe I was the one who missed it first. Based on just—literally everything about you, though, I’m assuming you forgot. And it’s okay, really, I know you’re out there doing big important shit. Is it weird that I’m kinda jealous of whatever guys you’ve been punching tonight? That’s probably weird. Anyway, it’s late. I’ll see you in the morning, Matty.”There’s a pause, a soft noise as Foggy lets out a breath.“Stay safe,” he says, quietly, and then the message ends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know where this fic was going when I started it and I mostly had no idea straight through to the end, but it's a very loose interpretation of the "sexting" square for Daredevil Bingo and it exists. And that's that.

Matt listens to the first voicemail after he falls into bed, still soaked in sweat, sometime after 3:00 in the morning.

“You missed our date,” Foggy says, a little groggy, “Though, admittedly, I fell asleep, so maybe I was the one who missed it first. Based on just—literally everything about you, though, I’m assuming you forgot. And it’s okay, really, I know you’re out there doing big important shit. Is it weird that I’m kinda jealous of whatever guys you’ve been punching tonight? That’s probably weird. Anyway, it’s late. I’ll see you in the morning, Matty.”

There’s a pause, a soft noise as Foggy lets out a breath.

“Stay safe,” he says, quietly, and then the message ends.

Matt’s missed a lot of dates since Foggy and him realized that their purposeful, thought-out friendship after everything that happened with Fisk was— _different_ than what they had before, warm and intimate and everything Matt never thought he could have.

Matt listens to it one more time before he sets an early alarm and turns on his side to go to sleep, too tired to think about it much.

*

Matt drags himself out of bed and into the shower early enough the next morning to get Foggy’s favorite coffee and bring it to his place. Foggy answers the door a few minutes after he knocks, yawning at the same time.

“It’s so early,” he says, then, when Matt gives him the coffee and an apologetic smile, “Oh, you shouldn’t have. Head’s up, I’ve got morning breath and I’m kissing you anyway.” 

He slips fingers into Matt’s hair and kisses him once before he leads him inside.

“Got your voicemail,” Matt says, following Foggy to his couch and sitting down close to him. “Sorry for ditching you.”

“It’s cool,” Foggy says, shaking the coffee a little so Matt can hear it. “I’m easily bribed.”

“It was nice hearing your voice,” Matt says, running fingers down Foggy’s arm to find his hand and lace their fingers together.

“I don’t like the idea of the robot lady voice monotoning all the loving odes I send to you,” Foggy says, squeezing Matt’s hand back. “They deserve to be performed.”

They cuddle for a few minutes until Foggy drags Matt to the shower with him. They end up being late for their first appointment, but c’est la vie. Matt’s kind of happy for once, and he thinks Foggy’s happy, too. He’s finally starting to realize how important that is.

*

“It’s been, like, six hours since we were together and I already miss you,” Foggy says, on the next voicemail. “It’s honestly disgusting. I was going to do something sexy, like jerk off and record it for you to listen to, but I’m not convinced my sex noises are that attractive. Plus, I’m pretty sure that you get off on the sound of my heart or my pheromones or something, you super-powered weirdo.” Foggy laughs softly before he continues, hopefully, “Come by if you’re not too busy leaping around rooftops all night? I want to touch your dick and tell you you’re pretty. I am willing to wake up in the middle of the night for that.”

Matt smiles at his phone before he gets back out of bed, pulling on a hoodie over his sweats and t-shirt and heading for the door, turning back to grab a bottle of wine that he’s been meaning to drink and tuck it under his arm.

He climbs up the fire escape and listens to Foggy’s heart for a few minutes through the window before he opens it and climbs inside.

“You should really lock that,” he says, when Foggy wakes up and startles, heart racing then settling when he sees Matt.

“Well, how would you Romeo your way into my bedroom to ravish me?” Foggy asks, mattress protesting as he sits up. “The pros outweigh the cons. I assume you got my message?”

“Of course,” Matt says, smiling as he shrugs out of his hoodie and bends down to take off his shoes. “How could I resist an evening of dick touching and compliments?”

“I know what guys like,” Foggy says, reaching out for Matt when he stands up again. Matt hands him the wine instead before he crawls onto the bed to collapse next to Foggy, fitting against his side.

“Hi,” he says, when they’re face to face.

“Hi,” Foggy says, leaning in to kiss Matt gently. “I’m glad you came. And that you brought premium convenience store wine. You know you don’t have to get me drunk to get me in bed, right? We are literally in bed right now.”

“Thought we could make a night of it. Sleep in, make breakfast,” Matt says, taking the wine back to unscrew the cap and toss it onto the nightstand before he takes a long drink from it, smirking when Foggy murmurs, “Lush,” fondly.

He drinks from the bottle when Matt hands it to him, then sits it on the nightstand and turns to pull Matt on top of him and into a kiss. They both taste like too sweet wine, and Foggy’s still sleep-warm, body soft and giving underneath Matt’s sore muscles.

“Promise you’ll still be here in the morning?” Foggy asks, softly, when they separate.

“Yes, dear,” Matt says, and Foggy cups his cheek.

“I’m kind of serious,” he says. Matt wonders if he means more than just the next morning, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he turns to press a lingering kiss to Foggy’s palm.

“I promise,” he whispers.

*

“ _Matt_.”

Foggy’s drunk; Matt can tell within three seconds of listening to the voicemail.

“Matthew. Marci got me drunk, I don’t know how it happened, I think she is a _witch_.”—in the background, he can hear Marci say, “I AM.”— “She maybe knows at least fourteen too many details about our sex life now. Don’t make that squinty face, I’m really sorry. You know I get chatty when I drink vodka.”

Marci says, closer this time, “Wrap it up, lover boy, I want to do face masks.”

“I have to go,” Foggy says, “do something very masculine and that has nothing to do with moisturizer. Stay safe. I love you.”

Foggy pauses.

Matt’s heart maybe stops for a second.

“Please tell me that’s not the first time that you’ve said that to him,” Marci drawls.

“Oh my god,” Foggy says, and then the message cuts off. Matt feels warm and kind of nervous, pacing his room a few times before he calls Foggy.

It rings until his voicemail picks up, and Matt takes a deep breath and says, after the beep, “I love you, too. Come over when you wake up?”

*

Foggy loses all sense of discretion a few weeks later, starts his message with the sound of hitching breath and his shaky voice saying, “I need to be slutty for a second, buddy. I can’t stop thinking about what we did the other night, about how good you felt inside of me. You were so sweet and careful—I kind of wanted to tell you just to go for it, but it gave me time to watch your face and see how much you liked having me like that.”

God, Matt did—they stumbled into sex slowly, unsure at first of exactly how to touch each other now, both of them drawing on distant hook-ups with guys that they never told the other about. Matt’s glad, in a way, that they took this long to get together. He’s more aware of his body now, more in control of it. He knows how to use it in ways that aren’t just throwing himself into other people, into situations.

“If this is gross or creepy or too unchristian for you, tell me and I’ll keep it clean from now on, but god, I wanted you for so long that I can’t get enough of you now that you’re mine. You are mine, aren’t you? I know I’m yours. I’ll prove it to you and everything. I’ve—kind of already gotten myself ready for you. If that’s any incentive.”

Matt groans softly and dials his number, lying down on his bed in just boxers as it rings.

“I fucked up my ankle a little,” he says, when Foggy picks up. “I don’t think I can make it to your place.”

“I worry when you say that you fucked up your ankle a little,” Foggy says, “You really mean that you lost a foot.”

“Foot intact,” Matt says. “I just twisted it and then. . .kind of fell off a fire escape.”

“Of course you did,” Foggy says, sighing.

“It was no big deal,” Matt says, then goes quiet when he hears a familiar noise and a little hitch in Foggy’s breath. “Are you jerking off right now?”

“You interrupted me,” Foggy says, voice low. “I wanted to be hard for you.”

Matt swallows hard.

“Come over,” he says, tries for teasing but probably backflips straight to desperate.

“It’s too late,” Foggy says, and Matt can hear his smile. “I’m basically done.”

Matt licks the palm of his head before he slides it underneath the waistband of his boxers, wrapping it around his dick so he moans when he says, “Can I help?”

“Yeah, talk to me,” Foggy says.

“I wish I could have been there to get you ready,” Matt says, already breathing heavy even though he’s barely moved his hand. “You felt so tight around my fingers, Fog, I didn’t even think I could fit inside you.” 

Foggy chokes on a laugh, says, “Yeah, we know, you’ve got a big dick.”

“You took me so well, though,” Matt says, ignoring him but smiling ridiculously at his ceiling. “How many fingers do you have inside you right now?”

“Uhm, none,” Foggy says. “I—have a dildo.”

He almost sounds embarrassed, but the image alone makes Matt’s hand clench around his dick.

“That’s—that’s really hot, Foggy,” he says, laughing roughly. “How big is it?”

“Not as big as you,” Foggy says. “I wish it was you, I want to—god, tomorrow, can I come over tomorrow? I know crime never sleeps, but I fucking need you to—shit, just keep talking before I embarrass myself.”

“No, I want to hear you,” Matt says, moving his hand faster. “What do you need me to do?”

Foggy’s breath shudders.

“I need you to fuck me, Matty,” he says, hushed. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Even at work?” Matt asks, grinning.

“ _Especially_ at work,” Foggy says, voice breaking. “Feel free to bend me over a desk any time.”

Struck with that idea, Matt feels himself getting close, hissing out, “ _Fuck_ ,” and slowing down. Foggy’s panting in his ear, and Matt can hear the slick motion of his hand, his body shifting against his sheets. It paints a picture. Matt can practically smell him.

“Are you gonna come for me, honey?” Matt asks, not moving his hand at all, voice slipping low and sweet. Foggy threw a bunch of ridiculous pet name options at him a few months ago, but Matt could feel how he melted a little when he interrupted Foggy with a kiss and a soft murmur of _honey._

“Uh huh,” Foggy says, grunting softly. “I’m—I— _Matt_.”

“Good,” Matt breathes, moving his hand again, stroking himself slowly as he listens to Foggy finish, listens to his breath slow down as he relaxes. “You’re so good, Fog.”

“ _You_ are,” Foggy murmurs, already sounding half-asleep. The first time they slept together, trading frantic messy half-dressed handjobs on Foggy’s sofa, they realized that neither of them could stay awake after sex. That night, they passed out in a tangle of limbs on the sofa, Matt’s hand still shoved down Foggy’s boxers.

Matt huffs out a laugh at the same time as he lifts his hips up and drops the phone, coming with a loud groan. It takes a long moment afterwards before he remembers to pick up the phone, turning to laugh into his pillow when he hears Foggy snoring softly.

*

Matt woke up to a voicemail left at 5:00 AM, Foggy groggily saying, “Oh my god, I’m sorry, dude. Did you come? I’m going to assume you did, but I’m gonna make sure that you get off twice tomorrow, just to be sure. See you in a few.”

*

“Did you get lost or something?” Matt asks, after the beep, the next night. They left the office at different times, and Foggy was supposed to be at Matt's place an hour ago. “I took all of my clothes off, but it’s cold. I’m going to add layers back for every half hour you’re not here.”

*

“I’m wearing three pairs of pants,” Matt says, trying not to sound concerned.

*

“Foggy—maybe your phone died or something happened, but—please call me. I’m worried.”

*

“I hope you’re okay. Please call me if you get this, and don’t laugh at me for manhunting you. It’s been two days, Foggy. Honey. I love you so much. Please be okay.”

*

“I love you. I’m gonna find you.”

*

 _Voicemail full_.

*

“Did you save me, hero?” Foggy’s voice is scratchy and almost amused; he left the voicemail while Matt was asleep next to him, curled up in an uncomfortable chair. Now, he’s in the hospital bed with Foggy listening to it on speaker, careful of bandages where a bullet skated near Foggy’s ribs in Matt’s haste to get his unconscious body away from idiots who were trying to scare them away from a case they’ve been digging into. “I knew you would. I never doubted for a second. Oh, also, I got your messages. I love you, too. Make sure to remind me that I have a question to ask you.”

Matt makes a questioning face at him, and Foggy brushes Matt’s hair away from his eyes—Matt’s glasses are sitting on the side table next to them, abandoned when he climbed into bed with Foggy.

“Do you want me to ask you now?” Foggy asks, softly.

“. . .yeah,” Matt whispers, sitting up then helping Foggy sit up, too, carefully.

Foggy takes his hand and holds on tight. Matt feels like he’s going to cry, and he’s not even sure where it’s coming from, just that—Foggy’s alive and he’s alive and everything’s okay, in this moment, at least.

“You know,” Foggy says, warm, voice still hoarse, “I had a ring and everything, but I forgot it at my place when I got kidnapped. Should’ve asked if I could swing by and grab it first.”

“A ring?” Matt asks, smiling.

“A nice one,” Foggy says. “Engravings that you can feel up. You’ll like it.”

“Foggy,” Matt says.

“Oh, I should probably ask you,” Foggy says, laughing. “You want to marry me, Matt?”

Matt’s completely unable to process his emotions right now, but he manages to nod and gasp out, “Yeah,” before Foggy leans in to kiss him.

*

“Hey, my mom’s freaking out, I think she’s going to give you her old wedding dress or something. It’s nice, you’ve got the body for it. Anyway, she says hello and congratulations and finally and a bunch of other stuff and, also, we’re having a family dinner next Friday so you can meet the family. I know, I know, you’ve already met the family, you’ve gotten drunk with them on most major holidays for years, but you’re now meeting them as Matt, My Fiancé instead of Matt, My Cool Roommate. It’s a thing. Don’t fight it, you’re gonna be bound to the Nelsons by the _power of the law_ and then there’s no escaping us.

God, I shouldn’t have said that while you still have time to back out. Please don’t back out. Come over when you’re done and I’ll think of a way to reconvince you.”

Matt takes just enough time to change into sweatpants and a hoodie, leaving Daredevil on the floor behind him before he heads to Foggy’s place.

**Author's Note:**

> everything I write is going to be about marriage for like a month so watch out
> 
> ([also follow me on tumblr](returnsandreturns.tumblr.com) for sad life updates and fluffy ficlets. I ask for prompts like every two weeks to fill the void in my soul with your attention, so get in on that.)


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